No Code
by Ivan Alias
Summary: Another sparkling collection of utter trite from me. Read and laugh at just how poor my writing, style and ideas are.
1. School's out

Disclaimer: Here we go again. I own nothing of any kind. I am not doing my OC universe, 'cause it sucked. So...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
Logan sighed briefly as a gaggle of Jamies scampered around him, running from an irate Jubilee and Rahne. Yells and screams floated through the air, accompanied by the thoughtful melodies of explosions, and a low- flying Toad, courtesy of Wanda air-mail.  
  
Yes, the Apocalypse celebrations were going as expected.  
  
Logan turned at the sound of wheels, seeing Xavier with his ubiquitous raised eyebrow and slightly oh-so-superior smirk. Logan raised his own eyebrow, then eventually smirked as well, turning back to the carnage. For a few minutes, the two men simply looked at the kids, playing their heedless games.  
  
"So, Chuck, you caring to divulge exactly what you saw from Apocalypse's mind, or are you going to speak in your customary riddles and half-truths?"  
  
"I think we both know the answer to that, Logan."  
  
Logan shrugged, then sat down, deep in thought. "Tell me, Chuck, really. Did you think that we would end up like this? What, with all of these kids and what's happening around the world."  
  
Xavier clasped his hands, his fingers intertwining, and he held them up to his face. "Truthfully, Logan, this was one of my more optimistic hopes for us all."  
  
Logan raised a disbelieving eyebrow.  
  
"Oh, our public acceptance is not what I may have wished for." Xavier continued, "However, we have so many things here to be thankful for." He gestured with his hand at the laughing children at the pool, and at the certain couples walking hand-in-hand.  
  
"I was always afraid that the Brotherhood and the Acolytes would always battle us, but things seemed to have turned for the better." He smiled at the sight of Kitty and Lance. "Sometimes they have turned out better then I could have hoped for."  
  
Logan followed his gaze, then rolled his eyes. "I still think she's being stupid going out with him."  
  
"So does Scott, but I know they'll be just fine. Trust me."  
  
Logan grimaced. "I wish I could, Chuck, I sincerely wish I could."  
  
Hank padded over to them, wringing wet and with a most annoyed expression on his face. He held up a finger seeing Logan open his mouth. "Not. One. Word."  
  
"May I ask what happened?" Xavier said in an innocent voice, a slight smile on his face.  
  
"It all started with an argument between Amara and Bobby, causing both of them to use their powers, causing a minor personal holocaust, which in turn led to Ororo deciding that a premature shower was in order..." Hank gestured on vaguely. "You get the general idea."  
  
Logan grimaced. "Unfortunately." He looked back to Xavier. "I hope these types of incidents won't occur regularly."  
  
"I believe you should ask Miss Irene Adler for that information. I may have seen into the future, but not with that amount of clarity." He paused; then. "Talking of which, how is Rogue? I hear she has been, rather... intrigued by the knowledge that Mr. Le Beau is staying on at the institute." Xavier smiled. "Allegedly, that is."  
  
Logan scowled. "I don't like the idea of her hanging out with an ex- felon, even one who is reformed." He glared at Xavier. "Allegedly, that is."  
  
"You don't like most people, though." Hank noted with an upraised finger.  
  
"That's because most people aren't to be trusted."  
  
Hank merely pulled a slightly perturbed face, which fell back into a grin. "'It is easy to love a friend, hard to love an enemy.' " He quoted, smiling broadly.  
  
"The Bible." "Shakespeare." Both men said at the same time.  
  
"Both wrong, I'm afraid, it was from the Orange Catholic Bible." Hank pulled off a parody of a paternal frown. "You two should start expanding your literary knowledge, if you wish to compete with me on quotes." He smiled again, and walked off, shaking occasionally to dry himself off.  
  
Both men returned to looking back at the kids. Xavier pulled a wry smile. "Just think, Logan. With all of our immediate concerns dealt with, I'm sure you could introduce a few training sessions with the children once again."  
  
Logan groaned theatrically, pulled an imaginary gun from his pocket and blew his brains out. "I miss Apocalypse already. I'd go as far to say I miss Creed already, to boot."  
  
Xavier smiled, and wheeled off. "I'm sure they would miss you too, Logan, if they were in your position."  
  
Logan ignored the comment, still sitting on the floor. Another yell, mingled some rather colourful Russian expletive sounded in the air, followed by a hasty apology.  
  
It all seemed too good to be true...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
A ringing phone, the click of it being picked up. A young, arrogant voice: "Nanee Nomu."  
  
"You called me earlier."  
  
A chuckle, slow and the sound of a creaking chair. "Oh yes. How nice it is to hear from you. How are you?"  
  
"You didn't phone me in order to question my health. Why did you call?"  
  
A pause, then a slight sigh of annoyance. "This is a tad embarrassing on the part of the people I represent..."  
  
"Spit it out."  
  
"Alright then. We have a job for you. Nothing major, we'll sort out the details later on if you'll agree with me to do the job. If you do it, you get a cool five hundred K, in used bills."  
  
"I'd like details."  
  
A laugh. "I'm sorry, I couldn't possibly divulge such important information over such an impersonal device as a phone." Another pause. "You know, it really breaks my heart that we could not meet face-to-face in order to discuss this in proper detail, but my timetable is quite unrelenting."  
  
"If you're not willing to be frank with me here and now, I have no business with you. I've more important things to do-"  
  
"Stop." A pause, then an aggrieved sigh. "I sincerely wished that I did not have to do this, but my associates were quite determined to acquire your unique talents. If you do not accept my first offer, then we will be forced to make another offer."  
  
"What, more money?"  
  
"Not so materialistic, my dear. No, our next offer would be to not to kill your children in a horribly painful and violent manner."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I know you are an individual of sublime cunning, I like that in a person. I wish I could not threaten you so crudely, but my superiors insisted that I make such a threat."  
  
"You wouldn't dare."  
  
"We could, we would, and we, quite frankly, should. My organisation cannot bow to those unwilling to... see things from our point of view."  
  
Silence.  
  
"If you accept the first offer, however, you will still get the money, and your children will not be killed by us." A pause. "Please consider this, I'd hat to think I had anything to do with ruining your life-  
  
"I'll do it." A death-bed whisper.  
  
"Excellent choice! I'm sure we will all benefit from your agreement! Now, further details of your requirements will be revealed to you soon. But we will send them to you. Don't bother calling this number again, please."  
  
"What about my tel-"  
  
"Oh, waffle-waffle my dear! Give us some credit, we can do some research on our own, despite our recent losses. Now, good day, and no talking to any nasty, bug-eyed monsters."  
  
Click. Purr...  
  
&&&&&&  
  
A new story I've come up with. It's going to be more than slightly different from my previous poor attempts.  
  
By the by, Nanee Nomu means 'Whaddya want'. 


	2. Have you ever

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Of any kind, shape or form.

Sorry 'bout the delay, I can't seem to write that fast right now.

All of the bands mentioned are real.

&&&&&&

"I'm telling you, Pere Ubu is a good band."

Logan sighed behind the paper, and tried to ignore the group of kids currently debating an issue of great social importance; the quality of bands.

Jubilee shook her head. "Pere Ubu suck. The lead singer cannot sing. You listen to them in order to be thankful that no matter how poor your singing is, there is someone in the world who is worse."

Bobby put on a hurt expression. "He can't _sing_? You don't like him 'cause the guy can't sing? That's rich, little miss '5.6.7.8's'. They cannot sing. I've heard tortured screams which were in better tune than them."

Jubilee glared. "I'm not saying the 5.6.7.8's are good singers, what I'm saying is that Pere Ubu has a singer so poor that you cannot help but solely judge them on the singing." She paused, then; "And their songs suck, too."

"They do not!"

"Oh, come on. 'The Modern Dance'? That one really sucked."

Ray smiled condescendingly. "While you two argue over those dinosaur bands, you're ignoring the fact of the good modern bands, like 'Lost Prophets'."

Kurt groaned in dismay, and Logan felt like joining him. "Ray, there are hardly any real 'good' bands right now, and 'Lost Prophets' are nowhere near approaching 'good'. If you want good songs, listen to 'The Ohio Players'."

Rahne snorted. "You only like them because of the cover for 'Honey'."

Kurt looked offended. "Of course not!" he blatantly lied. "I do not listen to music according to the appearance of the album or the band."

"Why am I not surprised..." Bobby muttered, earning a glare from Jubilee.

"Well, if you think about it, most singers and bands do seem to be concentrating solely on their appearance." Scott elaborated further. "You get two types; the teen-appealing groups or the grunge-type groups. You have different extremes in each groups, but that is how they dress."

Roberto pulled a gloomy face. "You're right there, unfortunately. Marilyn Manson, Lost Prophets, Avril..." He gave a drawn-out shudder. "and then we have McFly and Busted, Christina Aguliera, Britney..."

"Hey!" Amara said from the head of the table. "Christina and Britney are good!"

Kurt made a warding sign while several other people either agreed or vehemently disagreed.

"How in the world can you like those two?" Roberto asked in disbelief. "They cannot sing! Why do you think Christina never draws out notes? It's because she can't sing! _And_ she has the dress-sense of a colour-blind hooker."

"She dresses like that in order to express her sexuality and fre-" Amara began, looking very annoyed.

"Oh yes." Roberto drawled. "She dresses in a low-cut shirt, skirt and almost nothing else in order to express her feminine freedom and just how sure she is of her sexuality, and the whole horde of lusting teenage boys is an unfortunate side-effect and nothing to do with it." He smirked. "Call me a cynic if you will..."

"Still," Bobby added. "I'd much rather listen to those two's singing than Busted, or McFly..." He shuddered. "They have been sent from the deepest, darkest circle of hell to torment all of human-kind."

"Give me five minutes with Busted and a chainsaw, and I'll never ask for anything else ever again..." Ray muttered.

"It's as Kurt and Scott said," Rahne elaborated. "Too many bands and singers care about their image rather then their music. The best bands often look very unpleasant."

"Name one!" Amara said dismissively.

"Uh... Tom Petty. He proves that you don't have to look bonny to be a good singer."

"Goldchains." Roberto suggested. "He's fat, balding and white, but he's a good rapper."

"What does skin colour have to do with rapping?" Bobby asked. "Eminem's white."

"Yeah, but so was Vanilla Ice."

"Good point..."

"Arethra Franklin!" Scott declared.

"The Rapture." Kurt added.

"The Red Hot Chili Peppers." Bobby said.

"Bruce Springsteen." Jubilee suggested. "Oh, come on! He's not looking that good now, but his singing and playing are still up to scratch, if not even better."

Amara sighed testily. "Alright, so maybe there are a few-"

"The 5.6.7.8's." Bobby said, smirking as he did so.

"They do not look bad!" Jubilee snapped.

"Well, their singing and playing may be up to scratch, but they're not as good looking as they used to be..."

"Ha. Ha."

"Shut up!"

"Harmarr Superstar."

"He doesn't sing!"

"Yeah, but he is undeniably ugly, and besides, he's slept with more women then you ever could, Robbie. Even if you were immortal."

"You're cruising for a bruising, boyo..."

"What'll you do, sic your girlfriend on me? HEY! Don't do that! No! Oh come on, Rahne, don't do that!..."

Logan sighed and walked out of the kitchen, heading towards the living room, thankfully leaving the bickering kids far behind. He briefly juggled his coffee and newspaper trying to open the door, then stepped in.

Logan and Hank looked up from the two armchairs. "Good morning Logan. Why are you through here?"

Logan pulled a face. "Let's just say those kids could annoy Ghandi, even if he had achieved nirvana." He sat down, putting the paper on the table and taking another drink of his now-lukewarm coffee. "So, what were you two doing?"

"We were just discussing nothing of any real importance..."

"Well, don't let me impede you."

He opened the paper again, reading about the recent spate of denunciations of mutants at Capital Hill by the so-called FOH, then;

"Well, I think that the Crash Test Dummies are better than Lloyd Cole and the Commotions."

"Oh, come on! Even Helen Keller would know you have bad taste. You probably think that Nick Cave is better than them too."

"So what if I do?..."

&&&&&&

A crowded baseball stadium, crowded with women, men and children. Every so often there was the distinct crack of wood against leather, and the dull, monotonous tones of the 'Elephant walk', accompanied with cheers muted by the oppressive summer sun and heat.

A man walked up the bleachers, stopping to get a hotdog and mustard, then sat down.

"Would you like a hotdog?"

The person he was talking too turned and glared at him angrily. "I didn't come here to eat trashy foods."

A shrug. "Your loss, I suppose." Then the messy sound of various pork-based foodstuffs being eaten quickly.

"Good God, you eat more messily than Dukes."

"Are you in the habit of observing other peoples eating habits?"

"Let's just say I had no choice but too observe."

"Well, as nice as this is, I didn't come here to talk about table manners. I came to talk turkey."

There was a slight jaw clench from the other person, and the hotdog eater noted it. "My people have recently lost a lot of power, financially speaking, due to a... oh, how to put it... incident with an earlier project."

"What happened?"

"Let's just say that it didn't turn out as good as they had suspected and leave it at that, hey? Now, in order to reimburse our collapsed coffers, we are dependant on your skills to help us."

"You need my skills for extortion? You're using an elephant gun against a mouse."

"You certainly don't hide your light behind a bushel, now do you? You make think we are over the top, but we are about to... execute a massive financial transaction. A very large one. And we want to ensure that people... find it slightly hard to track us."

"How much?"

The man scratched a figure on the cardboard container of his hotdog. The other person noted it with a low whistle. "What are you going to do, crack open Fort Knox?"

"Inconceivable, my dear, utterly ridiculous. No, my people could not risk such a well-known place. We just need your help for a little while, doing almost nothing, and then we shall leave you, and your _children_..." the man added with a sinister undertone. "...forever. You have our word."

The other person laughed humourlessly.

"Just meet with me again later on. We'll contact you to tell you where and when. Now, the important question." The man gestured at the field. "Could you explain this game to me? I'm guessing you need to be a native to have a full understanding."

&&&&&&

Yes, I know... I'm taking too long and whatever... Amazingly, I _do_ have a plan for this story, but it might take some time. Who knows.


	3. National Express

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing, you hear?! NOTHING!!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I'll bet you weren't expecting me to say _that_, now were you?

Thanks to my reviewers:

Red Witch: Glad to see you're still humouring me, and while there will be some humorous bits, I am going to have a very nasty bit involving... well, that'll reveal too much.

Light Derived from Darkness: Hope I've still got your interest with this update. If I haven't, tell me so.

Pyros-gal: Yeah, I added this bit to add, I dunno, a bit of reality. Something a bunch of teenagers would argue about for no reason.

By the by, the Jacob-Monod hypothesis is actual genetic terminology.

&&&&&&

Jean looked up from her notes on the Jacob-Monod hypothesis as she heard the door behind her open slowly. She smiled slightly

"Hello, Scott."

There was a slight sigh of amusement. "I know I shouldn't be surprised when you do it, but still... It's slightly unexpected when you do it."

Jean turned around with a wry grin on her face, and shifted a strand of her hair behind her ear. "How are things with you?"

Scott shrugged slightly. "Not much. I've just been discussing with the Professor about tomorrow's class, and just sent an e-mail off to my brother." He shook his head. "I still can't believe he enjoys surfing."

"Different strokes for different folks, as my mother says."

"Still, the idea of balancing yourself over a giant watery body filled with dozens of deadly creatures and undertows is not my idea of a good time." He sat down with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Something bothering you?"

Scott shook his head wearily, letting Jean instantly know he was lying.

"There's no point in hiding things from a telepath, you know." She crossed her legs and made a mock serious expression. "Out with it, then. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"C'mon, tell me."

"It's nothing, really."

"C'mon..."

Scott sighed. "Everything."

Jean paused, then made a slightly perturbed face. "Well, now that we've gotten that generalised..." she trailed off, and looked at Scott. "What's going on in the big wide world then?"

Scott paused, then chewed on his lip slightly. "I was just thinking back to the days when we weren't known to be mutants."

Jean nodded slightly with a knowing look on her face. "Ah, the old 'nostalgia' conundrum."

"I really didn't care for these powers. Yeah, I know the Professor always said they were a gift, but..." he paused, considering the right words. "...I didn't want to be like this. All I wanted was to have a normal life, not be bothered by the world, not needing to care too much about what other people thought."

"I know that I really shouldn't listen to these doubts, and wonder about 'what-ifs', but I really just sometimes wish..." he trailed off. "...I sometimes wish we were normal."

Jean paused, tapping her hand on the desk delicately. "Wow..." she muttered, and then pulled a rather gloomy face. "Why are you listening to these thoughts now?"

Scott shrugged. "Before we had this whole Apocalypse thing, and before we graduated from school, there were basically too many things happening. I didn't mind it back then, I suppose. I was too busy trying to help other people, but now, since things have quietened down a bit... I seem to be thinking a lot more about our powers."

"I'm surprised to hear you come out with this, Scott. I always thought that Kurt would come out with something like this, maybe even Mr. McCoy or a few others, but not you."

Scott shrugged. "Kurt's not really that bothered now. He has the image inducer, and only one person outside of our group really knows his appearance. Mr. McCoy likes being alone. I'm not saying he's a hermit or anything; it's just that he doesn't mind being cooped up in a house all the time. I suppose... I just want to be accepted."

"Scott, don't say that." Jean placed her hand on top of his. "Despite what Kelly and other bigots may think, despite the fact we have been oppressed by dozens of people, despite the fact that we may get dirty glances in the street, we've accepted each other. No matter what happens, no matter our differences, all of us in the mansion look out for each other. We have accepted each other for what we are. And... _I've_ accepted _you_."

Scott smiled faintly. "Thanks, Jean."

"Hey, I'm always here to help."

"You're more than a helper, Jean. You're you." Scott got up. "Care for something to drink?"

Jean looked at her notes momentarily, then got up off the chair. "Sure, but it's your treat, buster."

"Of course. How else could I maintain my gentlemanly conduct if it wasn't...?"

&&&&&&

"...yeah, that's cool. About seven, huh? Yeah, I'll see you soon. Bye, Kitty." Lance smiled faintly, then put the phone down. There was a distinctive _whoosh_, and a blur materialised into Pietro.

"Boy, oh boy. You are a piece of work, y'know?"

Lance raised a weary eyebrow at that comment.

"First you're obsessed with her, then you try to kill her, then you ask her out on dates, then she dumps you, then you get back together after a global plot..." Pietro smiled infuriatingly. "Not exactly a poster-romantic relationship, Lance."

"Pietro, to be frank, you're not one to comment on relationships, Mr. 'I'll get four dates on the dance night, and not care when they all dump me at once.'"

"Hey, I know how to engage a relationship." Pietro smirked. "Besides, I didn't want to engage a serious relationship with any of them."

There was the sound of a slow plodding gait, and Freddy walked in, followed by Todd.

"What's going on in here?" Fred asked slowly.

"Lance is just going through another 'I love Kitty' phase." Pietro replied.

Todd snickered. "Man, even I know not to mess with any of the X-chicks."

"Yes, you instead chase after the criminally insane." Lance retorted.

"I'd be careful, Lance." Fred sniffed. "Those X-chicks give you heartache, and only heartache I tell ya! You're better off going after someone not so inclined to stab you in the back." He opened the fridge. "Ooh! Chocolate flavour."

"All we're saying Lance, is that you're a tad 'head over heels', over this."

Lance sighed. "I can't help it." He looked up at the ceiling. "'My love is like a red, red rose.'"

Pietro groaned, and slapped his face. "It's worse than I thought. He's reciting poetry."

Lance shrugged. "I dunno. There's just something about seeing her in the morning, looking at her eyes, hearing her talk... it just... does something to me."

"Yes. That's called irreparable brain damage." Pietro sighed. "Look, if you're looking for the right quote when dealing with the opposite sex, it's this;" He accented each word with an upraised finger. "'Women are crazy.' Yossarian, Catch-22. That, my friend, is all you have to remember."

Lance scowled in an annoyed fashion. "Listen, just because that quote fits your sister does not mean it's applicable with every other woman."

"Hey!" Todd snapped. "Just because Wanda's a little different does not mean she's crazy!"

"Yeah, if she was crazy, then she'd be dating you in a shot, Toad." Pietro quipped.

Lance glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, as much as I'd like to continue this conversation, I have more important things to do, like get ready to see Kitty."

"Oh boy. _Now _he thinks that our conversations are less interesting than dates!" Pietro cried in mock horror. "Surely not!"

Lance shook his head in comic disbelief, then walked upstairs to get changed, ignoring the pointless, but heated, debate down in the kitchen.

&&&&&&

"Hey, Kitty."

Kitty smiled slightly at his voice. "Hey, Lance." She twisted around in her seat. "What's shaking?"

Lance sighed. "You have obviously spent far too much time around me. _I'm_ the one who's supposed to crack those things."

Kitty smirked slightly. "Well, we all deserve a little break from everything once and again."

Lance sat down beside her and smiled. "It's nice to see you too, Kitty. How are you?"

Kitty shrugged. "Things are alright, I suppose. The Professor has been considering our requests for new uniforms, Jean and Scott have been getting closer, _again_," Lance made a 'being sick' face. "There's no need to be like that Lance. It's sweet."

"It must be love." Lance said wryly. "Anything else new with you?"

"Well, I've been trying a new recipe of muffins, this time, I remembered that Diet Pepsi is not a substitute for baking soda, but people are still hesitant to try them." She tutted. "So I made a few dozen mistakes around cooking. Is that any reason to be treated as a pariah?"

Lance looked from side-to-side. "Uh... what does pariah mean?"

Kitty winced. "Oh, it means someone who's shunned because of what they do." She looked apologetic. "I forgot you weren't in English anymore."

Lance shrugged. "Well, my vocabulary's fine enough as it is. I don't need anything overly flowery to get along..." he sighed.

"What's up?"

"I was just thinking... what with us being expelled... what are we going to do?"

"I thought Magneto was funding you lot."

Lance nodded. "Yeah, but... without any good grades... I don't know what we are going to do, basically."

"There's no need to get upset if you don't know what you're going to do when you're older. We've all experienced that."

"Yeah, but you're okay with that now. At the mansion, you have all the money, food and housing you want. While I admit that the house has been in relatively good condition, it won't stay that way forever." Lance shrugged morosely, "I basically don't know how we are going to get a steady flow of income. After all, who in their right minds would employ any of us? There's an egotistical speed demon, a mentally unstable woman who can cause things to spontaneously explode, another guy who would have trouble fitting through doors, and a squirt who smells worse than a sewage treatment plant. Admittedly, you do get used to it. Finally, there's me." He sighed. "The walking Richter scale."

Lance shook his head, then smiled faintly. "Sorry about dumping that all on you. That was kinda selfish of me. Heck, we're supposed to be enjoying ourselves!" He stood up and offered an arm. "Would the lady approve of a couple of ice-creams around the park?"

Kitty smiled and accepted the arm. As the two teenagers walked off, she started to think...

&&&&&&

Kitty opened the institute door and activated the security system, she leaned against the door, and sighed happily.

"That good a date, huh?" Rogue asked from kitchen.

Kitty smiled. "For all his rough and tumble appearance, Lance is actually a very sweet guy. And a gentleman." She walked over to the other girl. "How were things back here?"

Rogue made a non-committal gesture. "Meh, just a few brake-ups and get-togethers. Especially now that Rahne and Jubes are back." She smiled slightly. "I'm glad we girls aren't quite as out-numbered now."

Kitty smirked. "That's the last thing I think I'd hear from you, '_chere_'."

Rogue scowled. "Don't even hint that swamp-rat. I just spent a full half-hour escaping his attempted flirting." She snorted in an annoyed fashion. "Why does he have to be such an annoying, big-headed, over-attentive, arrogant-"

"-romantic?"

"Yes. No! Not romantic!" Rogue quickly corrected, but Kitty noted the faint blush. Rogue continued listing Remy's shortcomings, but Kitty noted a familiar walk of Logan.

"Yeah, look, I'm sorry, but I've got to go right now." Kitty apologised. "See you in the morning." She walked out. "Have a nice night." She paused, then. "I notice you've still got that card he gave you." Kitty smiled at Rogue's colourful curse, then walked out the door.

&&&&&&

Logan looked up as Kitty walked into the living room, and sat opposite him. Logan looked back to his book he was reading. There was a brief period of silence, then Logan looked up. "What do you want, Half-Pint?"

"What makes you think I want anything?"

Logan put his book down, breaking the spine. "Whenever you sit opposite someone, sitting like that, and staring at them, you want something off of them."

Kitty made an affronted expression. "Why sir! I'm insulted that you think I'm some form of opportunist! I'm sitting this way on this chair because I find this way of sitting the most comfortable. Shame on you for thinking any other way!"

Logan mumbled an apology and picked his book up from the side-table.

"But, now that you mention it..."

Logan put the book down again, and glared. "What?"

Kitty explained Lance's predicament to Logan, who responded with a snort. "Well, if the boy was foolish enough to get himself expelled, then he's too foolish to listen to me."

"C'mon, Logan. You know as well as I do that they were expelled because Kelly could make them into a scapegoat. It was unfair."

Logan paused, then nodded. "You know what. You're right. Get me a violin." He picked his book up again.

There was a slight noise, almost undetectable, but it disturbed Logan's reading. He looked up at Kitty.

Her eyes had widened slightly, and her lips were trembling just ever so slightly. Logan frowned angrily. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"_That_!" Logan snapped, pointing at her face. "The whole 'Bambi eyes' look!"

"What look?"

Logan breathed in through his nose testily. "I don't care how long you stare at me with that look, you are not going to get me help those losers." He picked up his book.

Slowly, almost immeasurably, his eyes moved across the pages, then trailed to the top of the book. He closed them tightly, then stared down at the book. A few seconds passed, then his eyes went back up. He shut them again. His eyes went to the top almost immediately. He slammed the book down on the table. "FINE!" He yelled. "I'll help. But I warn you here and now..." he leaned over Kitty. "Don't ever pull that tactic on me again, okay?"

"What tactic?"

He shuddered, and then walked out. "Never mind..."

Kitty waited until his footsteps had faded into the distance, then grinned. _That look gets 'im every time..._ she thought.

&&&&&&

The woman sat on the bench, watching the last few kids run out of school. Youthful chatter floated around as parents met up with their children. The women sighed, then shifted slightly.

"Excuse me?" A teenage boy stood in front of her. "'Woman on the bench'? I've got a message for you." He handed a small letter to the woman.

She waited for the messenger to leave, then tore it open. A handwritten note fell out, and she unfolded it. It was written immaculately, with old-fashioned ink and in a highly educated cursive style.

_Hello. Glad to see you kept your guard up, and did the sensible thing, i.e. listen to me. My people have finally verified their job for you, so if you would humour me, please read on._

_Time is an illusion, lunchtime doubly so. This device can measure it, but is of no use at night._

She looked at it cautiously, checking for any hidden message. She flipped it around, but nothing was on the other side. She thought briefly, then walked off quickly, thinking, then paused.

To her left was the old fashioned sundial.

She walked over, and looked over it quickly. Nothing was on it. Another quick check showed that no message was on the ground nearby... she followed the half-arrow's point, and looked up.

The tree which it pointed to had a note stuffed in a knot.

_Congratulations. Sorry about this, can't reveal all of my messages to you in one go. Too risky._

_Have you ever heard of an organisation called SHIELD?_

_There's a natural post facing the lake where I'd love to take a nap in the sun all day, but I must stay on my toes. North for a dozen steps by a baker and find the peace-maker._

She thought briefly. Somewhere near the lake...

The lake was in the middle of the park, with people walking or sitting around it. A natural post... that must be a tree, but which tree? There was at least a dozen around the lake.

..._a nap in the sun all day long..._

Where could you sleep under a tree, but not get put in the shade?

The south side of a tree, which is facing the lake... The northernmost tree!

Thankfully there was only one tree, bordered by a few low-lying shrubs. She walked around it.

..._North for a dozen steps by a baker..._ obviously a baker's dozen of steps, so thirteen paces...

..._find the peace-maker._ What was that?

She looked around briefly, seeing only a little grassy knoll. She remembered the spot she was on, then paced around briefly, searching for something...

She walked back over the spot she had walked to, then paused. She looked at the spot again, and then walked over it again. She slipped off one of her shoes and walked over it again.

There was a change in texture of the ground...

She slipped on her shoe and slowly felt the grass. Her fingers trailed a rough, woody patch on the ground that had been painted grass-green. She looked around quickly, then found the edges of the patch. The grass separated easily, it had been loosened recently. The patch turned into a handle, which she pulled. There was a moment of resistance, then a hatchet, with a note wrapped around the blade, came out of the ground.

She removed the note, and scanned it quickly.

_Most excellent! Well, this is what we intend to utilise in order to initiate... the plans I mentioned to you earlier. Sorry about the ambiguous language. Can't have this falling into the wrong hands, now can we?_

_We shall bring a car to a certain area to pick you up. The last note will tell where and when._

_Leonardo was famous for making these; 1.618. Lincoln is one and Donald Dewer is one too._

She sat down and thought. Something in the park... Greeks are famous for these... the number phi... Dewer and Lincoln are one of these?

Leonardo invented many things, and paintings..., no that wasn't it. Dewer and Lincoln were elected politicians... she shook her head. Phi had nothing to do with politics. So what else...

Dewer and Lincoln were politicians. One American, one Scottish. Dewer was the First Minister, Lincoln was assassinated in a theatre... Both were important people... Both had represented a country. Both had statues made in their honour. Lincoln abolished slavery-

Statues.

Leonardo made statues. Phi was the number used to correctly proportion statues and... there was a statue in the park!

The note was folded and weighed with a small stone, just in front of the statue.

_Ah, good! You managed to find all of the messages! So, meet us at five 'o clock, two days from now on Main Street. We'll drive a red car, you won't miss us. Remember; no police, no recording equipment, no plots. Believe me, we'll know._

_Cheeribye!_


	4. Radio

Disclaimer: Yes, we own no X-Men, we own, no X-Men, today! I'm using the royal we, here in case you were thinking of calling the schizophrenia hotline.

Well, here's the reviewers responses:

Light Derived From Darkness: Uhh... you lionise me too much. There are much better stories out there on fanfic which are infinitely better than this, but thank you, regardless. Oh yes, thanks for the quote!

Red Witch: I hear you! Thanks for the review. By the by, I do not wish you to think that I am copying you in any form. I had decided a long time ago who was going to be the 'hidden villain' in this story before I had read chapter 19 of 'This Soap Opera..."

&&&&&&

Letter from President to Governmental Association: SHIELD

As per stated to your previous letter, we have considered your request for additional funds needed by your department in order to secure and improve your standing throughout the world's 'hidden forces'.

Despite your usual department income of _-classified-_ US dollars, we have taken into account your recent exemplary sorties, most notably dealing with the main leaders of HYDRA, your activation of the Sentinel program in order to deal with the Apocalypse incident, and your subsequent, albeit controversial, utilisation of the privately-funded 'X-Men' in order to overcome said incident.

Hence, we have approved your request for _-classified-_ extra US dollars to your budget.

Signed...

Raven looked up from the letter at the man in front of her. "So your basic plan is to get this money for yourself? How do you intend to do it?"

The man sat forward and smiled. "This is not the actual letter, you understand. This is a copy sent via one of our spies. SHIELD are well aware that they have been given extra money from the government..." he trailed off, and made a disgusted snort. "So much for tax cuts, huh? That's the last time I vote for him. Where was I?"

"SHIELD have been given extra money..."

"Ah yes. Well, in order for this money to be exchanged from the Treasury, SHIELD need a recipient, one Colonel Nicholas Fury, to approve the transfer. When he inputs his 'recipient code', there will be an exchange of hard currency, in used bills, from the government to SHIELD - It seems that your precious government wish not to be linked with SHIELD - basically, we have to wait for Fury to make the exchange, then take him out of the picture, taking the money for ourselves. As it is used money in small notes, we will be perfectly safe in spending or storing it."

"Won't Fury be heavily guarded?"

The man let of a slightly exasperated smile. "Unfortunately, yes. You see, the transaction will take place within SHIELD headquarters."

Raven felt her mouth drop. "You're intending to rob a government agency dealing with counter-terrorism and security of their budget _inside_ their headquarters? Are you crazy?"

"No, my dear, just very ambitious. Like Julius Caesar."

"Yes, but he was betrayed and killed."

"'The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars but with ourselves...'" the man quoted, then smiled. "No my dear, this is not only robbery, but a form of revenge. By stealing this money from under their noses, not only do we rob them of their money, but also their pride. And credibility. Just what my bosses – and myself, after all, they do sign my pay check – want."

"So what do you need me for?"

"We need you to 'replace' Fury, ensure that when the actual Fury is out, you mimic him, and take the funds out of the building and into our hands. A risky strategy, but a worthy gambit nevertheless."

"I couldn't get within five feet of Fury without raising some kind of alarm, you must know that."

"Indeed. This is why we have arranged a little.... _distraction_ for our esteemed rivals to deal with, Miss Darkholme..."

&&&&&&

"Choppers!"

Logan looked up at Jamie's cry, and saw the distinct shapes of SHIELD helicopters flying towards the institute grounds.

"Jeeze, kiddo. We're going to hafta start calling you Radar if you keep that up..." he muttered, getting to his feet. With a few curt orders, the new recruits were given an early break from their practise, leaving Logan on his own. The aircraft lowered to the ground, and the unmistakable shape of Nick Fury hopped out.

"What do you want, Fury?" Logan yelled over the still-moving blades. "I assume you aren't dropping in for a quick coffee break, huh?"

Fury smiled humourlessly. "Actually, I believe this is something you might find a bit interesting."

"Spit it out."

Fury hesitated, then told Logan about the transfer of money from the government to SHIELD. "...The exchange will be taking place in three days in our headquarters, and I am asking for your help."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Why? I'm part of the X-Men, not a banker." He shook his head. "You've asked the wrong person for help. I work for Chuck, not for you. Besides, shouldn't your people be able to deal with security? After all, that's why we pay our taxes." He began to walk to the institute

Fury shrugged. "Normally, I'd be convinced our security was fine, but we've been getting pretty disturbing information. About HYDRA."

Logan paused. "What about HYDRA?"

"There have been multiple terrorist and international embezzlement fiascos occurring recently across the globe. We've managed to track some of the funds gained from these crimes, but the money seems to have just vanished off of the world market."

"What, you think HYDRA is trying to confuse you to death using bad economists?" Logan quipped.

"Money spontaneously disappearing from private loans and accounts is a typical HYDRA move. They seem to have been growing in strength recently."

"How? Their leader was killed when X23..."

Fury looked at Logan despairingly. "What, the name HYDRA doesn't give you a clue? Mme. Hydra may have been the head of the organisation, but the power of the entire group was spread between multiple sub-leaders. They've recovered from X23, and they want revenge."

"What makes you think they'll attack you now?"

Fury paused. "They aren't as unsubtle as they used to be. Instead of being thuggish and aggressive, they become slightly more insidious. They'll have heard of this transfer, no doubts about it. It's a lot of money. With it, they could buy whole caches of weapons. Maybe even re-start the Weapon X program..." Fury trailed off seeing Logan glower angrily.

He continued. "We know that if they manage to embezzle us of our funds, we'll be humiliated as well as starved of funds. Then they can attack. We know for a fact that they've got several new agents on the field. They could cause serious chaos if they get us now." Fury held up a finger. "But if we manage to get them now, we could annihilate them in one go. They'll have employed a lot resources on this mission. With your- with the X-Men's help, we could finish them off in one go."

Logan paused. "I'll need to think about it."

"Take your time. Remember, three days, and that's it."

Logan walked back slowly as the helicopters flew off. He had cut his links with SHIELD a long time ago. Despite their 'secret protectors' aura they liked to generate, he knew they were not as snow-white as that.

After all, they had reinstated Trask and the Sentinels. And they had tried to hunt down X23...

_Re-start the Weapon X program..._

It wouldn't be a surprise if they did. One of their weapons was now 'defunct'. They'd need a new one. One that was controllable. One that could be the deadliest person on earth...

But how could he trust Fury? Certainly, he had tipped them off about Magneto's plan on the Rebirth project, but them both would benefit from the destruction of the device. And, if things went wrong, Fury could easily have washed his hands of the whole matter.

That was the main reason he left, Logan mused. They were not willing to take responsibility of their actions, successes and mistakes. They always wished to say; 'behold us, we have been wronged,' and be innocent of all charges while some other chump becomes the scapegoat and they continue their off-screen manipulations.

Logan was never sure of SHIELD, even when he was an agent. Now, he was less sure of them. Scott would be suspicious. Chuck would be suspicious. Everyone would be suspicious. Was Fury trying to set them up to be the fall guys?

Even so...

_Re-start the Weapon X program..._

Could he really take a chance with that?


End file.
